To bring his rifle to the present was the work of an instant; and as he did so a quick voice exclaimed,—“Who is there? Is that the sentry?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied; feeling the blood tingle in his face, as he recognised the voice.
“We thought we heard the hard breathing of some beast, or some one asleep,” said Rachel Linton, with her voice shaking a little as she spoke, “and we were afraid.”
“There was—there is some one asleep here, ma’am;” said Gray, trying to speak calmly and quietly; “but I am on duty now.”
“It is Private Gray, Rachel, whom you attended to,” said another voice. “Let us go in now, we shall be quite safe.”
“Yes,” said Rachel, in a low voice, meant only for herself; but heard plainly in the utter silence of that night, “we shall be quite safe now.”
“Good-night, sentry,” said Mary Sinclair.
“Good-night, ma’am,” replied Gray; and he stood and heard the shutter blind closed with a bitter feeling of annoyance at his heart.
“My name seems to have driven her away,” he muttered. “At any rate, though, I am of some use,” he said soon after; “she feels safe when I am by.”
All was perfectly still now, except the heavy breathing of Private Sim; and Gray stood thinking what he should do.